27.6.13

Today was prop shopping day. In my dreams I own one of these shops. A heavenly sweet emporium for the over sixes. My days spent wondering around antiques markets and evenings would be sorting time; arranging beautiful muddles into lovely order.

For now, I will have to suffice with just visiting them once in a while.

21.6.13

I'm feeling a little muggle headed this morning. Last night saw the opening of Galeto,
a brand new Brazilian street food restaurant in the heart of Soho. Vibrant carnival spirit and Brazilian flavours all rolled into one tiny London resto. It really did feel quite favela.

I'm going to add at this point that its also good value. Not cheap like Asda cheap but reasonable. A bottle of house wine is £14.50. The signature chicken is just shy of £9.00. I like.They have just reached their two week birthday so get in there before the crowds arrive.

18.6.13

My second post about ice cream in a row. It's just that my twice a day habit needs feeding and it's not true that only the Italians can make ice cream. Hampshire doesn't have quite the sunshine, or the coast or in fact the beautifully tanned Mediterranean men but it does have Jude's; an entire factory dedicated to making proper English ice cream.

I've met Jude. She my friend's mum. She is warm and kind and funny and has a clever bunch of sons to her name. Together they stride to make an amazing product, cutting no corners and a whole team working together like one enormous family.

I always think that a product should sell itself, if it is good enough then we, little obedient ants, will buy it again. Judes seems to be gathering momentum and I have a warm glow of pride whenever I see the van rushing past or the little pots for sale in a cinema. If you have the chance, give it a chance. Salted caramel is my favourite.

16.6.13

12.6.13

A week in Italy, just the two of us. No early morning squeals or bottles of milk or factor 50. We arrived by bus, driving past fig trees breaking free from walls, growing like rampant moss. We drink coffee that pours like treacle and is hardly even dusted with milk foam. Each arrive served with plastic cups of fizzy water to wash away the caffeine. Our morning alarm clocks.

Lemons hang from trees by the road, their skin like pubescent boys faces. We navigate wondering roads, gasping at buildings that should surely fall in the sea tomorrow and we are aware that a week in Italy is going to pass too quickly. There is so much sleep to have, conversations to enjoy and pasta to eat!

8.6.13

The sun/rain thing that we give so much attention doesn't just ruin our weekend plans. All the fruit and vegetables are getting confused. If asparagus talked I imagine their conversations to go something akin to this;

7.6.13

I sought out a lovely exhibition this week called The Illustrated Recipe. A collection of artists for whom food has become their muse. My favourite was Kate Jenkins who made knitted jellied eels look stunning - enough said?!

I haven't done a shoot for a little while so it was lovely to be back on set last week. I love the studio spaces, these little light oasis in central London, and coffees and the atmostphere. You wouldn't quite believe the thought that goes into one, single image.